


Skin and Bone

by smolintj



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, M/M, Mutual Support, POV Keith (Voltron), Safe For Work, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:55:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolintj/pseuds/smolintj
Summary: Just after rescuing Shiro from the Garrison late at night, Keith finds himself later than he'd hoped. With Shiro in tow and some Garrison hitchhikers, Keith heads back to the only safe place he knows -- his cabin in the desert. While trying to nurse Shiro back to health, and slowly uncovering what has happened to him and Pidge's family, Keith, Lance, Hunk and Pidge form an unlikely team in trying to protect each other from the Garrison forces trying to hunt them down and bring Shiro back into custody, knowing that if they fail, their lives and their families could be in more danger than they ever would have imagined.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, Alex here. This is just a note to say that this does contain descriptions of self-harm, violence, wounds and wound care, and contains references to a non-graphic, non-depicted suicide attempt. If this is something that would be triggering to you or that generally makes you uncomfortable, please be aware and take care of yourself first. This fic should update on Fridays. Thanks for reading!<3

My hands are shaking. I wish they wouldn’t; I need them steady when I’m scared. They are always so steady when I fight, why now? I’m never scared fighting, why now?

There’s nothing to fight. I’m punching at shadows.

My hands are shaking. But it’s fine. This will stop, too. I just gotta be patient. I close my eyes. I breathe the air, dusty and hot. I rub my fingers over the ratty old armchair under me, feeling its threads slipping. I open my eyes to see the sunbeams streaming through the busted windows, illuminating creaky floorboards. Morning, then. Vigil’s over.

But he’s not dead.

I take a deep breath. It’s okay. I just gotta be patient. For now, I have a job to do. I lean back and cross my arms, blowing a tuft of hair out of my eyes.

I had to rush. I had to get Shiro here, no matter what, no matter what it took, I needed to make sure he was safe. That he was alive. It didn’t matter that Garrison hitchhikers got caught up in it. 

We would lay low; we would be safe.

After all this time of Shiro being gone, I couldn’t lose him again so soon. Deep breaths. Close your eyes. Go away from here, go out to the watering hole. Well, more of a seep, really.  
Sheltered in the shadow of a butte, slowly streaming out from the sandstone. A good place for hunting, where deer and rabbits and coyotes came to drink with their watchful eyes. With reeds growing in the thin sandy soil nearby, and dragonflies buzzing over the surface. The soft bubbling of the stream, the crunch of soil giving way to the brush of grasses as I approached.

A snore thunders through the silent room, making me jump upright.

My eyes bolt open and I look accusatory at my houseguests. They’re asleep, all three having passed out at some point in the night. The lanky one, the pilot, Lance I think he said his name was, was unceremoniously flopped over his chair, hand brushing the floor where it dangled off, mouth open. The big one is leaned up against Lance’s chair, head tipped back over the armrest so that his mouth is also open.

Only the smallest one (some kind of bird name??) stayed awake with me. He curled up in a corner of the couch, headphones on, eyes closed as he adjusted dials on their small array before him. He’d been like that all night, focused on whatever he could hear. I don’t understand it. What was his name?

I stand up and stretch, hearing my spine pop a few times from staying in my position so long.  
The smallest boy starts, nearly knocking over his little machine, but manages to grab it back and stares at me with his large eyes, made larger by his glasses.

“Uh, um, hey,” I hear myself say, meaning to ask his name but instead just making the awkward  
situation worse.

He takes off one side of his headphones, placing them behind his ear so he can hear freely. “Hey,” he mutters.

“I’m, uh, I’m Keith,” I manage.

“Yeah, I’m Pidge,” he responds. Pidge seems more responsible than the others, or at least more alert. That might have to be enough for now.

“Could you make sure everything’s okay here? I’m gonna go get some water,” I croak, voice hoarse from a long night awake.

Pidge sighs and settles the headphones fully around his neck. “It’s probably a good idea that someone scout around anyway. The comms channels are blowing up.” He gestures vaguely at the device on his lap.

“Channels?”

Pidge looks exasperated and rubs his eyes, “Keith, you kidnapped a high security prisoner and directly attacked the Garrison. Yeah, they’re looking for us. You gotta keep a low profile, and honestly, who knows this place is here?” Pidge gestures around the cabin.

“Uh, not sure. It’s been here a long time,” I glance at the roof. Needs patching soon.

“Wait, do you live here? This isn’t like, your hideout?”

“Uh, yeah.” Pidge is staring at me again. I don’t like it, and I rub my arm uncomfortably.  
“Anyway,” I continue, trying to break the tension, “We need water and I need to check some traps. If you’re scanning, you should keep doing that, and keep an eye on things.” Involuntarily, my eyes wander to the door to the back room. I snap them back to Pidge’s, but he’s noticed.

“Do you really know him?” Pidge asks, cautiously.

“Yeah, I do,and I gotta take care of him. Fast.” I glance around helplessly. This is hardly a hospital. It’s dirty and windswept and sparse. I look back to Pidge. “Do any of you have medical training?”

“Uh, I know some theory but hardly practice. I don’t think the others know anything.”

“Fuck.” Deep breaths. “Okay, that means I’ll have to act as medic. Which means someone needs to know where supplies are.” I jerk a thumb at the two sleepers, “Do they have a decent memory?”  
Pidge’s expression isn’t promising.  
“Okay then,” I decide, “I’ll bring them both and hopefully one will remember.”  
I walk over to a dresser in the corner of the room and pull out a set of walkie talkies from the top drawer. I blow the dust off of them as carefully as I can, tossing one at Pidge, who barely catches it.

“Wait, seriously?” he says, turning it over in his hands, “these things are ancient.”

“Yeah I know. Nobody bothers to track them. Tell me if anything changes. Anything. Please check on him. I’ll be back soon. Use your medical theory I guess.”

Pidge’s eyes widen, and I swallow. I have to stay calmer than this. I soften my voice, “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We just have to keep going, okay?”  
Shakily, Pidge nods. I nod back, trying to project confidence.

I sling my pack onto my shoulder and walk over to the sleepers. I look at Pidge for guidance and he just shrugs at me. Helpful.

I prod Lance’s overhanging arm with my toe. No response, it just swings in the air. Ugh, we have to move. Sun’s coming up. I should have left earlier, but even now, it’s hard to leave. But I don’t have much water stored. And now there are five of us. I poke Lance’s hand again, harder this time. He lets loose a “snork” noise but doesn’t respond.  
I give up, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it.  
His eyes bolt open, blue eyes quickly contracting in the morning light as he throws a hand over his face.

“Morning, sunshine,” I grunt, already reaching to shake the other’s shoulder.  
The big one wakes with a start, “Wha- where? Who? Wha?” I’m up and tossing water skins in their laps. Old ones, ungreased for a while. Hope they’ll still hold. I’ve been falling behind on maintenance. “I’m Keith, for the who. We’re going to get water.”

The big one rubbed his face sleepily, “I’m Hunk.”

The lanky one bristled at being woken, “What the hell, man? It’s dawn.” He throws a long arm out to point accusatory at the window.

“Yeah, McClain, it is dawn. We’re in the desert. Heat’s coming on. We gotta go.”

 

Lance opened his mouth to argue but stopped, consternated, “Wait, how do you know my name?”

I snort slightly, “You talk in your sleep about yourself.”

From behind me, I hear Hunk laugh and a soft thud, presumably Lance hitting him with his waterskin. I head for the door and open it, letting in soft rush of heat. “Hurry up, it’s gonna be hot today,” I call back over my shoulder.

Still rubbing their eyes, Lance and Hunk walk past me through the door I hold open for them. I share a last glance with Pidge and pat my belt, where my walkie talkie is strapped. Pidge nods.  
Okay, well, that’s as good as it’s likely going to get. I trudge out, glancing up at the sky. It’s cloudless and pale blue, but luckily no signs of helicopters. Still have to stay low. There isn’t much cover in the desert. I should have gone earlier, while it was still dark. But I didn’t want to leave Shiro.

“Okay, guys, we need to hurry.” I try to say it encouragingly, but my hopes aren’t promising. Lance is stretching and yawning, while Hunk is scratching his stomach.

“Hurry? For what?” Lance responds petulantly.

I lower my voice. “Pidge says they’re looking for us.”

“Oh shit, man, I told you they would. I told you sneaking out of the Garrison was a bad idea,” Hunk immediately glances at the sky nervously, wringing his hands.  
“Hunk, come on, Pidge doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He literally believes in aliens and thinks he’s monitoring their communications. Relaaaax, man,” Lance does a “calm down” gesture with his hands, appearing confident. Hunk clearly doesn’t share his feelings.  
Nevertheless, they both follow me when I gesture them on, crouching around the perimeter of the cabin to the back of the hill, where the cabin threw long shadows from the rising sun, providing some cover. I sneak down the slope, carefully placing my feet, ears alert when I suddenly hear a yelp.

I whirl around only to see Hunk, who had slid on a patch of loose gravel, picking himself up as Lance tried in futility to help.

I take a deep breath. What would Shiro do? He would be calm. I’m going to need to be like Shiro for this to work out.

“Hunk, Lance.” They both look at me with wide eyes, “I know you were just in the Garrison, in training. I know this might not seem real yet. But it is. We need to focus. I-I’m sorry I dragged you into this, but you’re here now, and we need to work together, okay?”  
I have more words but they’re stuck in my throat, so I turn abruptly and keep marching down the hill. I hear gravel crunching behind me as they plod along, quieter now.

Is this how it feels to lead a team, Shiro? Does it usually feel so lonely? No, not lonely. I’m used to being alone. I’m used to wandering caves and scrublands, preparing tools in the cabin with nothing but an old radio to keep me company. This was different. A mistake then could kill me, that’s true.  
A mistake now could kill us all.

I clench my teeth slightly, feeling sand grit between them. I won’t let Shiro down. I won’t let any of them down. They deserve better than this. I walk faster, and I hear Hunk begin to pant slightly as he keeps up.  
“It’s not that far, I promise,” I call back over my shoulder, trying to be reassuring.  
And it isn’t. Only about a half mile away, at the base of the nearest butte towering into the sky. I keep my eyes trained on the sky, my feet knowing the way by heart. Nothing, clear blue. Stay that way, please. Please.

We near the butte, me looking back over my shoulder to check on the others. It’s quiet at this time of day except for birds singing in the rushes near the spring, a green patch in sight now. Lance and Hunk follow, Hunk glancing over his shoulders and nearly stumbling, Lance with his neck arched, trying to see where we’re going. He makes eye contact with me and points towards the patch of green and I nod.  
It doesn’t look like much from here, just a few shrubs with grasses waving. But as we approach, suddenly the ground has a covering of small weedy plants, and the soil becomes more fertile, and finally we step into the telltale sign of mud. I smile. I love this spring.

Quickly, I slog through the muddy patches towards the heart of the spring, hearing Lance make a disgusted sound at the mud behind me. Doesn’t matter, I know he’ll follow.  
I get to the deeper water and sling my skin off my back, dipping its mouth into the deepest point of the clear, warm water, trying to swash more water into the sack as I do. I stand after a few moments, capping my waterskin, and move to the side, still crouching, to splash a bit of water on my face and the back of my neck, already sweating a bit from the rising sun.  
I have to help Lance and Hunk fill their skins, as they ineffectually splash around in the water trying to coax the water in.

Lance bounces on his toes while I do it, looking around, while Hunk watches curiously, eventually mimicking me and filling the last water bladder on his own. I smile at him, but even I can feel that my smile is tight and thin-lipped. I make a note to send Hunk for water next time.  
I stand, shaking water from my hands.  
“Alright, good to go.”  
We load up our packs and begin the trudge back, Lance making a face at the mud sticking to his shoes.  
The way back seems much, much longer. The heat is rising, but that isn’t what made it seem so. The sky was clear, the birdsong drifted away behind us and the cabin loomed ahead. I need to hurry. I walked faster, and faster, until I was nearly jogging.  
I glance behind me, see Lance and Hunk struggling to keep up. But at this point I’m out of my mind with worry, I need to go, now. I need to check. I need to be there. Now.  
“Catch me up!” I yell behind me and go into a full sprint towards the cabin.

I know I should be secretive. I know I should be calm and collected. But god all I can think of is Shiro’s face, unconscious, with that enormous burn scar across his nose, with a metal hand lying by his side.

I run faster, kicking sand out behind me as I sprint up the hill, breathing ragged, and plunge into the darkness of the cabin, slamming the door against the wall.

Pidge jumps so hard his equipment nearly falls again, this time with him catching it at an even closer margin before it hits the floor, but I barely notice, rushing through and forcing myself to gently open the door to the bedroom.

It’s quiet here, with dust motes floating through the air trapped in rays of morning light. Shiro lies on the bed, his legs too long for it, feet hanging off the edge, his broad shoulders looking comical in the tiny rickety frame.

I rush to him, still catching my breath. Fuck. I press my fingers to his throat as carefully as I can. A pulse, still.

A pulse. Soft breath stirring the air. Alive.

“Fuck,” I breathe, but a sigh of relief, of pent up emotion, of temporary safety.

Behind me, footsteps thud into the cabin, and I hear the door slam. Hunk collapses into an armchair in the main room, while Lance staggers in towards me, panting and gasping, holding out his waterskin before him like an offering. I take it, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Lance answers, before grimacing and contradicting himself, “Actually, no, a lot of problems.” He looks around, shoulders still heaving. “Where the hell are we? What the hell happened? Why are people looking for us? And,” he pauses, eyes lighting on Shiro and widening, voice lowering to a hoarse whisper, “is that Captain Shirogane?”

“He goes by Shiro,” I answer without thinking.

Lance’s eyes widen further. “You know him?” he takes a deep breath of indignation, “You know him and you knew me and you never introduced us, what the fuck man?”

“Well, here’s your introduction, I guess.” I shrug. “And what do you mean I knew you?”

Lance’s mouth drops open, “What?” he splutters, “What? Of course you know me? We were rivals, ya know? Keith and Lance, neck and neck? Pilots of the age?”

I furrow my brow. “From the Garrison, then? Got it,” I turn back to Shiro, leaning close to his arm. In the light of the morning, I lift the corner of his blanket, exposing his upper arm, where metal grafts into flesh. I suck in my breath sharply.

The wound looks clean and healed, like it’s old. How did this happen? I’ve never seen anything like that.

From behind me, Lance has been talking and I zoom back in, shaking my head. “Shit, that wasn’t there, was it? And you still haven’t answered my questions. What is happening? What the hell? Honestly I know Hunk is freaking out and I’m sure Pidge is too and if you don’t start giving some answers right now I’m going to have to try to-”

I turn, rubbing my temples, trying to remember his questions through the chatter. “Um, this is my house,” I gesture around vaguely, “Uh, welcome, I guess. As you see, this is Shiro, and he, uh, is supposed to be on Kerberos. Or dead.”

A pause. Lance is quiet, waiting for more.

I take a breath, trying to decide how much to tell this stranger. “Clearly he’s not there, and clearly he’s here, and I don’t know why but I know that the government had him. And I know they were hurting him. And that’s all I know.” Deep breaths. Calm. “And so, I had to get him out, I had to get him out of there. So I uh,”

“So you kidnapped him?” Lance shoots back.

I bristle, “Yes, I kidnapped him from people who were torturing him,” I fling my arms out towards Shiro, “Look at him, he’s skin and bones, he’s stitched back together and goddamn, where’s his fucking arm?”

My voice had gotten louder than I hoped. Lance looks alarmed, and hesitantly takes a step back. Pidge is peering through the doorway nervously, and when I look his way, he ducks away.

I drop my hands to my sides, realizing they’re in fists. I swallow, nervously. “I-I’m sorry,” I mumble. 

Head down, I move to Shiro’s other side, to examine his other arm. This one is bandaged tightly, with dried blood crusting through. I bite my lip. I should have changed this earlier. Why was this arm damaged? Were they prepping him to take the other arm too?

I can still feel the other’s eyes on me.

“Pidge,” I say, looking up, and he jumps. I try not to grimace at that. I’m not great at first impressions in the best of times. “Can you go to the cabinet where I grabbed the walkie talkies and get some bandages please? Third drawer from the top.”

Pidge nods carefully and lightly moves to grab bandages.

I grab the pocketknife on my belt and flip it open, and as I begin to cut carefully into Shiro’s bandaged arm I hear Lance yell, “What the hell man?? What the fuck? What- oh.”

I swallow. He thought I was going to cut him. To cut Shiro, or hurt him, or kill him. Who does he think I am?

No time for that now, I need to focus. I carefully, carefully cut away at the bandages. My hands are shaking. I need them to be still, now more than ever, or I might actually cut Shiro. Slowly, slowly. I wish I had better materials for this. What do actual surgeons have? Those fancy scissors? My hand slips and I feel my knife nick flesh. Fuck, fuck.

I drop it and pull back, hands up and shaking visibly now. I gotta calm down. I have a task to do now. Focus.

I take a deep breath and pick up the knife again, turning it over in my hands. Nothing but dried blood on the blade. A good sign. I go back to my work, ignoring the feeling of being watched by the others. This is what’s important now. Slowly, slowly, I cut away the bandage, pieces of it falling to the floor as I free them. The bandage is thick and tightly wrapped, expertly, clearly by one of the government medics. I swallow. It’s okay.

“What do you think happened?” Says Lance from directly over my shoulder.

“Gah!” I jump, luckily having just completed a cut, and turn to scowl at him. “I don’t know. Can you get some water please? We need to clean this.”

Lance glances at Shiro’s arm, and the bandages with dried blood on them on the ground. I visibly see his adam’s apple bob as he nods and steps into the other room for a waterskin.

I take off the last layer of bandaging and suck in my breath through my teeth. A long, thin line, slightly jagged in some places, running from Shiro’s wrist nearly to his elbow. Fuck.

Fuck.

The wound was stitched with extreme precision, and the stitches appeared to be holding, although the skin was stretching at the edges a bit. The stitches were crusted with dried blood, and in spots some shining red was still seeping through.

I took a step back and closed my eyes. It’s okay. He’s here now. He’s safe. But if that was what I thought it was, he wasn’t safe. Not at all. Not here and not anywhere.

Well, I’d just make sure he was safe. He’s safe now wherever I am.

I glanced to see Lance hovering a few steps away from me with the waterskin. I take it, “thanks.”

Lance nods slightly, eyes glued to Shiro’s arm.

From the doorway, I hear a squabble. Pidge goes, “What is it? What are they staring at?” Trying to get Hunk to use his height to peer over.

I speak up, “It’s, uh, his arm’s cut. Not wide but deep. Looks like they stitched it up good. Gonna change the bandages.”

“Oh,” Pidge responds.

I look down again only to hear Hunk say, “This is a bad idea man. Does he even have any medical training? Is that-is that who I think it is?”

I don’t want to answer, but luckily Lance does for me, “Hey man, just let him do his thing.”

I grab a table from the corner of the room, one about the same height as the bed, and pull it nearby. Gently, I grasp Shiro’s wrist and move his hand onto the table so his arm lies, extended at an odd angle, over the gap between the bed and the table. It isn’t great. His shoulder is still slightly lower than his wrist, meaning when I start to clean this the water will run down his arm. But that’s all that can be done without moving him more.

I slowly begin trickling water over Shiro’s arm, watching as it dislodges small bits of dried blood and carries them in eddies to the floor, like cherry blossoms on a stream. As the dry blood chips away, fresh blood starts oozing out. Good. Bleeding means the tissue’s alive and healing. I clean the cut as gently and thoroughly as I can, and look up for bandages. Pidge scurries across the room to hand them to me and I try to force a weak smile in thanks.

The first bandage I use simply to pat the area dry as best as I can, soaking up blood and water in the process, and tossing the bloody rags to the floor. Then I begin the binding. I start from the elbow, wrapping linen around and around and around, taking forever, making sure no folds or pinches are there to cut off any blood flow. After a few layers where no blood has seeped through, I grab my knife and cut through the linen, carefully inserting it under the other wrappings to hold it. Gently, I move Shiro’s arm back. That arm needs as much blood flow as possible.

I return the small table to the corner and place the waterskin and bandages on it. Without thinking, I lean down to scoop up the bloodied cloths on the ground and go to walk out the door, running directly into Lance, who is not paying attention. He yelps indignantly, opens his mouth apparently to say something, then sees me with my arms full of bloodied bandages and appears to think better of it.

I take the bandages out to the fireplace in the main room and dump them in for later, then collapse onto the nearest, and most busted armchair in the room with a sigh.

I open one eye to see the others staring at me.

“What?” I ask, annoyed. I should sleep at some point.

Hunk glances nervously back and forth between the door to Shiro’s room and me collapsed on the armchair. “Uh, just checking, but is that Takashi Shirogane?”

“Uh, yeah.” I run my hands over my face, too exhausted for questioning right now.

Hunk’s voice rises in pitch, “Uh, did we just kidnap Takashi Shirogane from the government?”

“Yeah.”

Hunk’s eyes are bugging out slightly as he takes a deep breath. “Alright, Keith, I got your whole desert hermit thing, I got your whole bad boy breaks the law thing, I got your whole rebellious thing but why, god why would we kidnap the most famous missing person in the world who was supposed to know the data from the literal fringes of the solar system?”

I take a deep breath and speak quietly, trying to keep my voice level, “Because, Hunk. Not only is his arm missing, not only is he covered in scars now. Not only has he been gone without a trace for a year. But that cut on his arm? They didn’t do that to him.”

I glance up, Pidge’s face is hidden in shadow. I don’t want say it, but Lance and Hunk have confused looks on their faces. So I take a shaky breath and continue. “Whatever was happening there was bad enough that he did that to himself. And I’m never going to let someone suffer like that, and definitely not Shiro.”


	2. 2

The silence in the room is palpable, hanging in the increasingly heating air and choking our lungs. I glance around, trying to gauge the other’s reactions. I can see Pidge biting his lip, Hunk is playing with his fingers, intertwining them again and again. Lance is standing, apparently dumbstruck, staring at the doorway through which Shiro’s still form can be seen.

“But-” Lance starts, then shakes his head. “But he’s a hero. He’s the best pilot of our generation.”

I grit my teeth, trying not to look angry, knowing that to Garrison kids, Shiro’s a legend, a figure to look up to, never someone real. 

Pidge speaks next, and his voice is small and shaky, weaker and less confident than I’d yet heard it. “Keith, do you-” he shuffles his feet, avoiding eye contact, “Do you know anything about his crew? About Dr. and Matthew Holt?”

“Um, no. As far as I could find out, Shiro was the only one the officials were holding. I don’t know about the rest. Sorry.”

Pidge’s thin shoulders seem to buckle in over his chest, making him appear even smaller. 

Lance is getting irritated now, “Why would they do this to him? They recovered him from a failed mission! Why don’t they want to know what went wrong? Why don’t they want to know about the crew?” He throws his arm out to the side, narrowly missing whacking Pidge across the face.

I take a deep sigh. “I-I don’t know. Something bad is happening. I don’t know what. The records I managed to get just told me that Shiro was there. And if they had Shiro, why wouldn’t they announce it? Why wasn’t he publicized as a returning hero? Something is wrong.”

Pidge glances up sharply. “I know what it is. Er, well,” he corrects quickly, “I know what it might be. Maybe. Probably.”

The three of us stare at him, eyebrows raised. Finally, Hunk speaks, “uh, well? Are you gonna tell us or what?”

Pidge appears to be bracing himself. “Well, I uh, know this sounds insane, but you guys just need to trust me on this, alright?” Our eyebrows all raise higher at this, and Pidge scrambles to talk faster, “Okay, uh, I promise you I’ve done my research, but I uh, think that the uh, Kerberos mission was, uh, intercepted by um, well, uh, aliens.”

“Oh jesus, not this again,” Lance begins to complain, but I hold up my hand quickly, focused on Pidge.

“Lance, shut up a second,” I turn away from Lance’s offended look to look Pidge right in the eye, “Why do you think aliens?”

Hunk pipes up, “He thinks he’s intercepted their radio signals or something, like he’s built a transmitter that can pick up wavelengths from that far away? Although I’m not sure how whoever is sending those would get around the time delay for the speed of light? Like, how would you hear communications from the other side of the solar system in close enough time to make it worth it? Unless I guess the aliens have some kind of radiowave warping system? That’d be awesome, but honestly I-”

“Pidge, aliens, what are they saying?” I interrupt.

Pidge is already behind his computer now, one headphone on his ear. He glances up, “They’re talking about looking for something. I don’t know what. Whatever it is, they all know what it is without explaining it. It’s something called… the Voltron? Whatever the hell that means.”

Lance groans and rolls his eyes, “Pidge, are we really still on this? Aliens, seriously?”

Pidge bristles, “Yeah, Lance, I am still on it, because it’s all I’ve got to figure out where the hell the Kerberos mission ended up. That and him,” Pidge aggressively points towards the bedroom and I instinctively tense slightly, nervous.

Pidge sees my action and lowers his arm nervously. I can feel the others looking at me. I clear my throat. “Well, uh, Shiro will wake up soon and then he can help you figure out what’s going on. In the meantime, Pidge, have you been monitoring any Garrison chatter?”

A slightly guilty look crosses Pidge’s face and he quickly readjusts a few dials, “On it.”

I nod and look around at my other houseguests, who are now sitting slumped and miserable on one of the couches. 

“Everything’s going to be fine,” I try to say it confidently, but my voice shakes slightly, “as soon as Shiro wakes up, he’ll know what to do.”

“Whatever he did nearly got him killed,” I hear Lance mutter mutinously, and my stomach drops.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I respond, voice ripping angrily out of my chest, cracking on its way.

Lance and I make eye contact and slowly, he lowers his gaze, shuffling his feet.

My hands are shaking much harder now, and I ball them into fists, trying to stop their trembling, desperately pretending I didn’t hear that. “Pidge,” I bark, my voice coming out harsher than intended, “Try to keep an eye on that Garrison radar, and, maybe get some sleep? Have Hunk take over?”

Pidge greeted me with a bloodshot look through his glasses, stressed and determined. Lucky him, he had something constructive he could do. I understood.

The sun is rising higher in the sky, broiling the air. Nothing to do now but wait, I guess. I nod awkwardly at Pidge as I grab two blankets from a couch nearby. As I walk into Shiro’s room, I pointedly call over my shoulder to Hunk, “wake me if anything happens.” I wrap one of the blankets up into a ball and set it on the peeling wooden floorboards between Shiro’s bed and the door. Gingerly, I lower myself onto the creaking planks and toss the other blanket haphazardly over me. I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the muttering of the others from the main room, and close my eyes.

If anything happens to Shiro, I’m close enough to know, I’m close enough to help. I can rest, I can sleep now. It’s been a long night.

But my muscles don’t loosen and I remain, curled up and taught, on the ground, trying to overhear the murmurs of the others. One thing I’ve always loved about the desert is that it’s quiet. Other than coyotes yipping at night and the soft sound of the wind creaking the cabin, the desert can be relied upon to be silent. It allows for anything coming to be heard miles away. But now there are people here, and their voices are getting under my skin.

I roll over to my other side, causing the boards to creak, and hear the voices suddenly stop for a second before beginning again. How could this have happened? Shiro was so excited, so honored to have been chosen to lead the Kerberos mission. He was scared, sure, but so determined to prove himself, to prove they’d made the right choice.

I’d barely seen him in the weeks leading up to the mission, as he trained and prepped and briefed. Even then I’d felt him slipping away. But he was going towards something better! Shiro had been there for me so much, had done so much for me, that of course I smiled when he said the mission was extended, when he told me how dangerous it was.

But it hurt that he never noticed that my smile was breaking, that every time I turned away I had to angrily blink tears from my eyes. It hurt that he stopped asking if I was okay, or what I was learning in my classes, or if I could hang out later in the week.

But it’s okay. Shiro was busy. He’s the greatest pilot of our generation, it’s selfish of me to want him all to myself. He’s meant for bigger things that some kid who managed to scrape his way into the garrison and then flunked out. Shiro deserves better than this. And I swear, I’ll make sure he can get there.

Shiro had done so much for me, it was my turn to do for him. And I wouldn’t let him down. Not again.

Deep breaths. I need some sleep soon or my wits will get dull. I’ll start making mistakes, and I can’t afford that. Patience. The talking of the other three reminds me of the Garrison, when I’d lay on my tiny bunk and hear the other guys talking and giggling late into the night. I used to find that calming to sleep to, and when I first moved out here, I remember finding the silence so eerie I needed to turn on the radio to fuzzy talk shows just to sleep. I’d go outside and find planets among the stars, remembering my Garrison training and when my dad used to teach me about constellations, pointing his gnarled fingers upwards and tracing their lines. I’d find each planet in turn, tracing the journey outwards. Mars, then Venus, reflective and easy to find, then Jupiter, a bright spot in the dark, then Saturn. No more than that could be seen with the naked eye, but it didn’t stop me from trying, tracing outwards my own constellation, the path of a tiny hunk of metal in an endless void, and inside, my brother.

The milky way would stretch out luxuriantly above me and remind me, that in all this vastness, Shiro wasn’t so far away after all. Relatively speaking, that is. That through all the expanse of the universe, we could only fling him so far away.

But I was wrong. As I lie here, only a few feet from Shiro, I’ve never felt so much further from him. Why would he do that? How could he do that?

How could he try to abandon me like this?

Didn’t he know I’d always come to help? Didn’t he trust that I’d get there? Although apparently I hadn’t gotten to him quickly enough.

Maybe he waited, and waited, and thought I’d abandoned him instead.

I’m sorry.

But now I’m here, and I swear I won’t make the same mistakes again. Everything will be okay. I wish the sun wasn’t so bright in my eyes, and I wish I could hear the desert silence again, enveloping me in sleep, in darkness, in stars.

The cabin has never felt smaller, a cramped ship hurtling through the vast expanse, going nowhere. With nowhere to go.

I imagine myself on a ship so often, just like I always have. The whole of space before me, with me at the helm, piloting. Shiro used to tell me I’d be the second best pilot of our generation, with a wink. Second best is fine as long as I could fly. And Shiro was flying then, making a name for himself, inspiring the world, his face plastered on every tv, and with me barely constraining a grin every time I saw the pride in his eyes, even through the photographs. Second best is fine, I’d never wanted the cameras shoved in my face, never wanted anything but the soft darkness of space around me, parting around me as I flew through it.

But then Shiro was gone, suddenly. Communications cut off. The ship had landed on Kerberos successfully, samples were being taken and then? Nothing.

A scrap of metal sitting listlessly on an icy world so far away.

The blaring media had been all around, announcing Shiro’s failures for all to see. They blamed pilot error. I’d clenched my fists, seeing the same images of Shiro with pride in his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t have failed. They chose correctly. Something was wrong.

But months passed. The Kerberos mission became regular drill training at the Garrison, it became normal. I would listen intently to everything we knew about the mission, but quickly it became redundant. I memorized schematics, no luck. I skipped classes to read up on it. This is what mattered. Who cared about new components when we can’t figure out what went wrong with the old ones? Who cared about flight simulators when real people needed help?

I remember falling asleep in my books, again and again, shaking myself awake, knowing I needed to be working, needed to be looking for Shiro.

But I hadn’t been fast enough. I’m still not fast enough. I need to know what happened. I need to keep him safe.

Even if it means keeping him safe from himself.


End file.
